Killer
by SugarQueen8490
Summary: Stella Miller. Kyle Fischer. Both in their prime. Both with clean records. Both dead as dust. Can Detective Ian Kabra of the MI-6 solve the mystery behind their untimely deaths?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay! So, this is a murder mystery story that I felt like writing. I got the idea from my sister, 3VAD127. She wrote something fairly similar to this, but she never posted it on FanFiction. This will be a little two-chap story. The answer will be the second chapter, and I'll mention anyone who gets it right. The 39 Clues don't really exist in this one. I just used the characters.**

**Disclaimer: I, SugarQueen8490, don't own squat blah blah blah...**

_~L~_

_London, England 2021, 6:30 p.m._

Detective Ian Kabra of the London MI-6 stepped out of the restaurant in which he had eaten dinner and pulled his coat around himself tighter. It was cold, wet, and raining cats and dogs. It had been for days. This kind of rain made _everything_ slick, even the pavement. England's weather was always unpredictable and generally unpleasant. He frowned when he remembered how long of a walk it was to his car.

Simply accepting the fact that he would get wet, he made his way up the street toward the parking lot where his car stood in wait. As he was passing an alley in between two buildings, something caught his eye at the end of it. He stopped and stared into the narrow laneway of pitch blackness. Normally he would have simply passed it by, but something about the situation was telling him that he needed to investigate.

He made his way down the alley, dodging trashcans and garbage bags. When he came to the end, the sight made his blood run cold. A man was lying in a crumpled heap, blood running about him in streams. Ian bent down and felt for a pulse. None. He narrowed his eyes and felt the man's hand. Still warm. He must have died just recently. Maybe even while Ian was eating his dinner. He looked around for any signs of a struggle. There were no wounds on the man except for a large gash in his temple. There was a large bruise around the wound as well, indicating a great impact. The only other things that he found were two plastic zip-up bags. One held a 9 millimeter pistol, and the other held three empty bullet casings.

Ian frowned. "How curious," he whispered to himself. After a moment of thought, he decided to call the police. He knew he could most likely solve this mystery alone, but he wanted to bring more people into the situation incase he needed backup in the near future.

In under fifteen minutes, the police were on the scene. They all turned suspicious eyes toward Ian, wondering how he could have found such a thing in the deep blackness of that back alley. He simply smiled at them. What looked to be the chief of that squad approached him with the same look in his eyes as everyone else.

"So, Mr. Kabra. How exactly did you come across this scene? It doesn't exactly look like something one would stumble upon."

Ian sighed in impatience. "If you simply must know, I've been trained for a very long time to always be on the lookout for suspicious things. Something suspicious caught my eye from the back of the alley, and I followed my instincts to go investigate. That's enough questions, investigator. You're only wasting your time questioning the wrong person."

He flashed his badge at the officer, and his eyes widened. The MI-6 was a branch of law enforcement that was far above these petty, little police officers, and the chief knew it. "Oh, and that's _Detective_ Kabra to you."

Ian walked off from the chief to oversee the mortician of the squad. Maybe – though it was nigh impossible – he had missed something crucial that this man could uncover. He sighed in frustration when the mortician announced only the things that he had already discovered. He paced up and down the alley, trying to clear his head and fit theories. His team on the MI-6 always said that he was the first to jump to conclusions on every single case they had been given. Ninety-five percent of the time he was absolutely right. That's what made him the best. His ability to catch even the smallest details and fit them into the bigger picture like a perfect little puzzle piece.

When he reached the mouth of the alley, he caught a hint of a conversation between the chief and one of his officers. He narrowed his eyes and moved closer to see if he could hear them better without being accused of eavesdropping.

"We just got a new murder report," the officer was saying. "There was a shooting down on 34th Street. A woman, Stella Miller, was shot three times in the chest."

"Any identification on the type of bullet?" the chief inquired.

"They're being tested as we speak."

"Does she have any enemies? People who would be out for her blood?"

"None that we know of so far, Sir. She has a good reputation with the people she associates with, and the word is that she just recently got engaged."

"Poor, broken-hearted sucker." - the chief shook his head - "Any identification on this dead guy over there?" He motioned toward the alley.

"We ran his face through our computers. His name's Kyle Fischer. He has no criminal record, Sir. Not even a speeding ticket. He's completely clean."

The chief nodded. "Good work, Witherspoon. Call an ambulance... and tell them to bring a bodybag."

_~L~_

The next morning when Ian went into work, his boss smacked a new case file onto his desk. "Get to work," he said bluntly.

Ian looked down at the crisp, cream-colored manila folder. He opened it with little interest until he saw the name of the case in big black letters: "**The Miller Case.**" Miller... Stella Miller...

He flipped through the file, not letting a single detail out of sight. "Victim: Stella Miller. Time of death: Between 5:00 and 7:00 p.m.," the file read. "Born April 18, 1999. Engaged to Rick Higdon. Height: 5'7" Weight: 116 lbs. Hair: Wavy, dark brown. Eyes: Light brown."

He read every single little thing that was printed on every sheet of paper in that folder. When he came to the last page, something caught his eye. "Shot three times in the chest with a 9 mm pistol. Pistol and bullet casings have yet to be found."

He narrowed his eyes at the paper and sat still for a moment, pondering his latest finding. It was time to do a little research on Kyle Fischer...

_~L~_

Ian wiped his eyes and glared at the computer screen for the umpteenth time in the last two hours. There was absolutely _nothing_ on this guy! That officer Witherspoon had been right. He was completely clean. Something told him to look past it all, though. Something told him to look way into his social life.

He turned away from the special police computer and took out his own personal one. He quickly hacked into Kyle's Facebook account and looked at his recent activities. What he saw made his blood run cold. _"Kyle is no longer in a relationship." "Kyle is no longer friends with Stella Miller."_

_~L~_

**Okay! So that was my sad attempt at a murder mystery. I tried to make it absolutely OBVIOUS for you people, so I should hope to see a lot of right answers in all the reviews that you people ARE GOING to send me. :) Oh, and you not only have to tell me who killed BOTH people, but you also have to tell me how they both died. I mean, Stella is OBVIOUS. Kyle might be a bit trickier.**

**Well, good luck, you guys.**

**~Sugar**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, all of you who reviewed were BRILLIANT. And I'm not even being sarcastic. Most of what you guys said made perfect sense... but it wasn't the right answer. Therefore, since nobody got it right, I'm going to add another chapter with more clues and such as to how both people died (Most of you guys know who killed Stella, so good job!). Plus... in my haste to post it... I forgot a crucial clue. -.- *sigh* Clumsy me! Now ON WITH THE STORY! XD**

_~L~_

Ian paced up and down the hallway right across from his office. His mind raced to put the pieces together. Stella and Kyle had a social past, but that suddenly became shattered? Did the fiance have anything to do with it? Ian decided that he needed to go to the scene of Stella's death and talk to this Rick Higdon.

_~L~_

Stella's apartment smelled like death. Well, everything did to Ian these days. There was no escaping fate for anyone or anything. In his mind, all anything was was a complex packet of cells and organisms with an expiration date. Even himself.

He looked around the room with distaste. The walls were painted a deep shade of violet with wall ornaments covering nearly half of it. The carpets were a dingy grey color, the type of color that made him depressed. There were hideous drapes covering the windows and even more hideous furniture to match. He sighed and shook his head. He wasn't here to critique the girl's sense of style.

He searched the room for any clues that hadn't been uncovered already. There was a pool of blood on the carpet where Stella's body had once been. There were splatters of blood on the wall from the shooting. There was nothing in particular that caught his eye. Then he thought for a moment. _Maybe it isn't what's here, _he mused. _Maybe it's what's _not _here._

He searched the room once more. There didn't appear to be any spots on the cabinets or side tables where the dust wasn't as thick, indicating that something had recently been removed. Everything seemed to be in place. He sighed in frustration. His instincts very rarely let him down. There was something missing here that he needed to find out about. He paced the room, deep in thought.

Suddenly, the door to the apartment creaked on its hinges to reveal a young man with messy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, slightly bloodshot as if he'd been crying recently. Ian whipped around, his gun unsheathed, to face the man. His eyes widened in shock, and he immediately held his hands up in the air, dropping what he had previously been holding.

"Who are you?" the detective demanded.

"I-I'm Rick H-Higdon, Sir!" he stammered out, his terror obvious in his eyes. Ian glanced at one of the pictures on the side table of Stella's couch. It was a picture of the victim and that young man holding hands and smiling. He narrowed his eyes but slowly lowered his gun.

"What's your business here, Rick?" he inquired with authority in his voice.

"I w-was just d-dropping by to p-pick up some of S-Stella's things."

Ian noted the boxes that the man had dropped. "And why would you be doing that?"

"Her p-parents s-said that th-they want-ted her th-things at their-r h-house now," he looked up to meet Ian's gaze. The detective saw the truth in his eyes and put his gun back in its holster. The dark-haired man smiled at him.

"Well, then. Let me help you with some of that," he said in a friendly voice.

Rick smiled at the detective with genuine appreciation. "Thanks," he said as he slid the big boxes toward the dark-haired one. Ian gave him a first-rate grin in response.

"So are you a detective on Stella's case?" the blonde one asked as he started packing some of his late fiancee's things.

"Yes. I'm the only one, though. My boss only assigned me with her case. The rest of my division had to go work on something else," he answered as he placed another picture of Stella and Rick in a smaller box.

"Wait... They had to go somewhere else? But... they're here all the time, constantly asking me the same questions over and over."

Ian smiled sourly at the item in his hand. "I'm not with the police. I'm... higher up than that."

"Then what are you?"

"I'm a detective of the MI-6."

Rick's eyes widened in shock. "They sent the _MI-6_ in here? But... why?"

Ian knew that it was because his boss had immediately seen the connection between the Miller Case and the Fischer Case and wanted somebody _smart_ investigating, but he didn't want to tell Rick about Fischer. It might change the answer to his next question. So he pretended like he hadn't heard Rick and pulled out a picture of Kyle when he was alive.

"Do you know this man?"

Rick looked at it, confused. "No... Should I?"

Ian looked long and hard into Rick's eyes, searching for some hint of deceit. The burning intensity of his gaze made Rick want to look away, but he felt the importance of it. It was Ian trying to prove whether or not Rick was any part of the murders. The detective found absolutely no sign of duplicity. This man was legitimate.

The dark-haired man relaxed his muscles and started packing again. "No."

When they had all the boxes full, the blonde cleared his throat. "Well, I should get these things back to Stella's parents' place. Thanks for all your help, Detective."

Ian flashed him a genuine smile. "Stay safe, okay, Rick?"

The other man nodded in compliance and thanked him again as Ian held the door open for him as he carried the full boxes out to his car. He was clean. He had absolutely nothing to do with the murders. He was just another poor sucker who'd gotten caught in the middle. Ian sighed and looked around the room again. Where was that clue that he'd been looking for?

He strolled casually around the room, looking at pictures here and there or scrutinizing something that looked interesting. As he made his third round around the small room, he realized something. There were only ever pictures of Stella and Rick. Maybe they were alone in a picture or together. It didn't matter. It was only ever them. Ian cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "How curious," he whispered to himself.

He went into Stella's bedroom and found that the same thing was true there. He searched around in her desk and side table drawers, looking for something that might give him a vital clue. Finally, he found it – her camera. He flipped through all the pictures. Most of them were of her and Rick making funny faces at the camera or each other. There were absolutely no pictures of Kyle Fischer.

When people are in a relationship, don't they take pictures? And when that relationship has just recently ended, don't people usually keep things that will remind them of those happy times? Not if she burned them all. Not if she deleted them all. Not if those times weren't happy. Not if she picked Rick Higdon over Kyle Fischer.

_~L~_

Blood. There was always blood, wasn't there? Ian deduced this as he stared at the crime scene where he had found Kyle. There was a giant puddle of blood on the ground just like at Stella's crime scene. Here, though, the blood was spattered much higher up the walls. Ian frowned at it. No amount of human strength could have brought on so much force. It baffled him.

He looked up the wall on his right to the roof three stories above his head. Maybe if he could get an overhead perspective on the scene, he could get more insight. He strolled to the front door of the building and casually rang the doorbell. When nobody answered, he gave one of his more gentle kicks to it, and it flew open. He entered the dark foyer and climbed the spiral staircase all the way to the top. When he reached the highest point of the staircase, there was a metal trapdoor that led to the roof. Without thinking, he shoved on it with his shoulders. It opened easily and didn't even make a noise.

He stepped up onto the roof and looked out onto the horizon. It really was a quite lovely view from up there. He walked to the very edge of the roof at the back of the building and looked down. There was a roaring river just yards beneath him. He shuddered. _Anything_ could get lost in a river like that – big or small. He just didn't know how he didn't notice it sooner.

He walked over to the gap between the two buildings to look down at the crime scene. He sighed in angry frustration as he could uncover no new knowledge. He paced quickly back and forth on the roof, trying to conjure something up. As he neared the middle of the roof on this fifth round, his shoe suddenly slipped, and he almost fell. He caught himself, though, and righted himself. He decided that pacing on a roof wasn't exactly the best idea and walked slowly to the trapdoor.

_It's a good thing that roof wasn't wet, _he thought. _Or else I might have slipped and fallen to an even worse doom..._

_~L~_

**Okay! That's the end of chapter two! I know I said I'd give you guys the answer in the second chapter and that there were only going to BE two chapters, but I just really wanted you guys to get it right! Okay, I hope I made it super duper obvious now. :D Now, this IS the last chapter of clues that I'm going to give you, and the next chapter WILL hold the answer. :) R&R guys!**

**Best of luck to you! And HEY! Don't forget to vote on the poll on my profile! :)**

**~Sugar**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and guessed! :) I'll post the names of the people who got it right at the end.**

_~L~_

_Yesterday, 5:45 p.m._

Kyle Fischer looked at the gun in his hand and looked back at the dead body in front of him. What had he just done? He wasn't supposed to shoot Stella! No! He'd _never_ hurt her! Right? All he had done was come to her apartment to negotiate with her. He had only brought a gun because... because... It was completely unjustified. In his blind rage, he'd done something he'd never meant to do.

Tears started pouring down his face as he realized that he'd never see her again all because of himself. Panic soon replaced his sorrow when he thought of the police. They could never find out! He had to get rid of the evidence and fast! He thought of getting rid of Stella's body, too, but that would mean that he parents would never get any closure. They would never know where their baby girl's body was. That thought ripped him to shreds.

So, making sure he didn't touch anything with his bare hands, he opened one of the drawers in her kitchen and pulled out two plastic bags. He put his gun in one and his empty magazine in the other.

He took one last look at Stella's body before he opened her apartment door and stepped into the hallway. He calmly strolled out of the complex and to his car.

It was only in the confines of his '99 Lincoln that he lost it. He pounded his head on the top of his steering wheel and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until he had no tears left. When he had finally finished crying, he told himself he needed to pull it together and get rid of the evidence. A big river just on the other side of town came to mind. As he was driving there, it started pouring down rain. He sighed and turned on the windshield wipers.

He finally came to it, but it was blocked on both sides by countless buildings and complexes. He parked on the side of the road, grabbed his two plastic bags, and went up to one that looked abandoned. He knocked on the door before opening it and climbing the stairs all the way to the top. He pushed on the metal trapdoor up there and cringed as it squeaked slightly from not having been opened in a long time.

Kyle hoisted himself up onto the roof and stood there for a moment. It was raining so hard, and it was almost impossible to see where he was on the roof. He heard the river roaring nearby and went toward the sound of it. Suddenly, his foot slipped on something, and he began to lose his balance. He looked down to his left and saw the ground two stories below. His left foot slid completely off the roof, and he plummeted down headfirst to the ground. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain.

_~L~_

Detective Ian Kabra strutted down the hallway of his office building and slammed two case files down on his boss's desk. "Case closed."

_~L~_

**Okay, so yeah! That's how it happened for those of you who didn't know. Now, the people who got it right were Evanescence456, AngelBreeze, bookgirl39 (though you need to specify a bit more next time... :)), and omg-Kittens. Everyone else, good guesses, but no. :) I hope my story held at least a little bit of entertainment for you all. Thanks again for you reviews.**

**~Sugar**


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